


Gifts

by deathwailart



Series: Dragon Knights [OLD] [14]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Elves, F/F, Gift Giving, High Fantasy, Knights - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:39:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tanis agonising over giving Ilea a gift at the nomad camp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gifts

It's not that she's bad at this, actually no, she is terrible at this, she is terrible at emotions except when she just lets them flow through her without realising. (When she's normal, when her upbringing and training are stripped away and she's just Tanis, what she could have been if circumstances had been different.) They courted as best they could - after the fact, painfully, awkwardly, one side giving more than the other - but she's determined to try.  
  
They might die. She wants Ilea to know even though she knows Ilea knows. She wants to do this, wants to reclaim pieces of herself and who she might have been, the person she sees whenever Ilea looks at her, the person she wants to be but will never be. She can't change the past, she can only hope to change the future.  
  
So she finds a craftsman in the camp. Elven, southern. Not old or young for an elf, that long nebulous stretch between and they talk for hours, her northern pronunciation slowing things until in her frustration she runs off to grab Brynjar and have him help. It's worth it. Or she thinks it is but the real test is still to come because she's hovering outside their tent with Oran whipping the backs of her legs with vines (gentle at first, little prods but now she's sure welts are forming and did the earth just shift beneath her feet as if to push her forward?) and a small pouch in hand. She takes one last look; that strange pale wood from the forests here that gleams silver-white when polished, so smooth the grain can barely be seen. It's crude, she thinks, compared to the finery Ilea is accustomed to. An ugly gift from a barbarian. It isn't always easy to push away the earliest thoughts but she heads in (of course giving Oran a rude gesture behind her back) and Ilea smiles, looking up from fletching arrows.  
  
"Drer," she greets, stopping her work when Tanis stands there like a fool. "Is something--"  
  
"A gift," Tanis blurts. Immediately she wants the earth to open up and swallow her, a hot blush radiating out from her cheeks to her ears and down her throat. "I-- I had this made for you. It's what my people do." Used to do but they discussed this before.  
  
Her hands don't shake. She's too seasoned in wielding magic and weapons but it's a close thing, her kneeling across from Ilea, sweaty palms on her thighs. Her heart thumps hard in her chest, panic rising until Ilea smiles, that small delighted smile of hers and launches herself forward to kiss Tanis. It hurts. Ilea is long limbs and pointy elbows and knees and Tanis isn't ready and it's really not much of a kiss at all - she's amazed she hasn't been head butted. But Ilea is turning and pulling her hair out of the way and asking Tanis to help her fasten the necklace in place and Tanis is smiling too. Maybe she's not so bad at this after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: Leave a “Offer Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character giving another a gift.


End file.
